


You Bring Me to My Knees

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: Domestic Bliss [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A continuation from the events of "The Decision". Rose is frustrated that the Doctor refuses to attend a prenatal exam with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Bring Me to My Knees

**Author's Note:**

> A special shoutout of thanks to Lizzy Lovegood, who posts stories over on FF (she's an amazing author! I highly recommend you read her work.) After reading "The Decision" she told me that she would like to see a continuation of this story... This is for you, Liz. I hope it doesn't disappoint.  
> Lyrics appearing in this work are from "I Don't Deserve You" by Plumb

**You Bring Me to My Knees**

“Are ya comin’ or are ya just going to mope there all day?”

He huffed, scowling at Rose from under his furrowed brows. He crossed his arms defensively in front of him, slouching further into the armchair. When he spoke, his voice was a gruff rumble. “ _I_ would be doing _this_ for you if the TARDIS was more mature… or if I could get the new sonic to work properly… or–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We’ve been through all of this before, Doctor.” She pressed her lips together in consternation, and shrugged at him impatiently. “Look, I gotta go, or I’ll be late. Are ya comin’ or not?” She pulled on her coat, zipping it up over the gentle swell of her belly, and grabbed her keys from the table where she had dropped them after coming home the night before.

He couldn’t meet her eyes when he shook his head. “No.”

“Fine. See ya later then.” Her voice was distinctly icy, as she left the room. The front door banged loudly behind her, sending a chilly blast of autumn air through to the living room where he sat.

He pulled a hand down his face as he heard the car rumble away down the lane. With a sigh he stood up and pulled the aforementioned sonic screwdriver from the back pocket of his jeans. He glared at it balefully. “Right you!” He shook the device in warning, as he marched toward his workshop. “You are going to work properly by the end of the day or I’ll…”

What was he doing? Talking to a dysfunctional piece of technology? Is this what his life had been reduced to: one lonely heart; the regular need for time-wasting sleep (only a few hours each night, but still far more than he had needed as a full Time Lord); one pathetic life; and sodding useless excuses for technology?

His bitter thoughts turned to his Time Lord counterpart, no doubt gallivanting, carefree, across the galaxies of a different universe, with a fully functional screwdriver, and a wonderful adult TARDIS that could take him anywhere across space and time with all the medical technology he would need to keep Rose safe throughout her pregnancy. The other Doctor had… Weeell, he had… he had… so many things; so many things that this poor humanized version no longer had… He had…

He had… no Rose.

Rose!

\-------

Rose sat at her desk, elbows pressed onto the hard surface and her head clutched between her hands. It was getting very late and she was running out of excuses to not go home. It had been a quiet afternoon, after her appointment: just one UFO sighting that turned out to be nothing more than a meteorite. It had been a quick investigation, and the resulting paperwork had been minimal. She had spent the rest of the day finishing up old reports; reorganizing her files; clearing off her desk; dusting even. Dusting, for God’s sake! She really _was_ trying to put off the inevitable…

The Doctor hadn’t contacted her all day. Not one call. Not even one text message. Not even a _How did it go?_ or a _How did she look?_ or an _I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such a complete Raxicoricofalapatorian’s arse_. What made it all so much more frustrating was that he had been so keen a few days ago about seeing the first images of the baby during the 20-week prenatal exam (over-the-top, exuberant-Doctor kind of keen!) Well, they both had been excited about seeing their little girl, their Hope, for the first time. In 3D video, too! The technology was incredible!

And their tiny daughter _had_ been beautiful and wonderful, and the Doctor would have been completely besotted and enthralled… But Rose had found that what should have been a completely brilliant experience had been, in some ways, more than a little disappointing because the Doctor hadn’t been there to share it with her, to hold her hand. Instead he had been wallowing in self-pity and a sense of inadequacy that had always been a major component of this version of him: possibly a legacy of Donna’s insecurities; or maybe it was just that he believed he had lost so much of himself, his Time Lord superiority, in the metacrisis. How could a life with her ever possibly compensate for that loss? How could she, a mere human, ever fulfil his needs? She could only love him more, try to understand, and make his life a little better where she could.

Tears stinging her eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, she pulled out her mobile and replayed the pre-natal video, gently stroking her slightly swollen tummy, and mentally sending loving caresses to the little life she harboured within. “We should go home to Daddy, yeah,” she spoke as much to herself as to Hope.

\-------

It was full dark by the time Rose drove up the overgrown lane that led to the little TARDIS-blue house. Even given that the days were getting shorter with the change of season, she realized that it must be very, very late. Still though, she procrastinated, dreading the evening that probably lay ahead of her: the cold, awkward silences; the anxiety of bumping into one another as they made supper in the confines of the little kitchen that usually felt so warm and cozy; the cold sheets separating them in their bed; and worst… the look of resentment she was sure she would see in his eyes when he looked at her… So she made a show of parking the car perfectly straight in the drive; took longer than necessary to collect her belongings from the seat next to her; and walked slowly up the path to the door. As stealthily as possible, she unlocked the door and entered the house. If he didn’t realize she was here, maybe she could slip upstairs… nah, he still had his superior Time Lord senses. He would know. He would have heard the car all the way up the road.

As she entered the room, her own senses were assailed with the delightful, rich smell of cooking and the warm glow of a fire crackling in the hearth. The lights were dimmed, producing a soft, amber light. A beautiful song was playing in the background:

“… _you give me more than I could dream_

_And you bring me to my knees_

_You bring me to my knees_ …”

“You _do,_ you know…” his voice was quiet, “…bring me to my knees.” She had been so distracted by the transformation of the living area, she hadn’t noticed him approach from the other side. His hands reached to her shoulders, gently slipping off her coat, and hanging it almost reverently on the coat tree by the door. Hesitantly she met his earnest gaze, unable to form a response. And perhaps that was best. She hadn’t made up her mind if she intended the words stuck in her throat to be ones of bitter hostility or ones of loving patience.

The song continued:

“… _I still can’t believe that you’re right next to me_

_After all that I’ve done_

_I don’t deserve your love,_

_But you give it to me anyway_ …”

“After you left this morning…” he began uncertainly. “Urggh!” he whirled away from her tugging his hair in frustration.

Overwhelming affection swelling within her, she reached for his hand, entwining their fingers, and drawing him back toward her. “’S alright, Doctor… when you’re ready.” She leaned her head against his arm. “Somethin’ smells delicious.” She smiled up at him. “It’s so late and me and Hope are more than a little hungry! ‘Ave you been bakin’?”

“I certainly have, Rose Tyler!” he exclaimed, not hesitating to latch on to any excuse to change the subject. He tugged her hand, leading her enthusiastically over to the dining table, which was set in an haphazard explosion of autumn colours: a pumpkin centrepiece, carved hollow, served as a vase for a riot of gold and orange and red flowers, and an entire roast turkey sat on the table, overflowing with stuffing. There were roast potatoes, baked squash, gravy, cranberry sauce, and two pies: pumpkin and apple.

“How many people were you hopin’ to serve, Doctor?” she giggled.

His face fell, and Rose felt her heart constrict in contrition for her offhand remark. “Oh… weeeell…” he sighed, “you know me: never do things by halves. It _is_ a bit much, isn’t it?”

“Oh, Doctor, no! It’s perfect! I told ya! We’re hungry! And we’ll jus’ freeze what we don’t eat, yeah.”

“Yeah…” He couldn’t hide his dejection, making Rose’s heart ache a little more.

In the background, the song finished, and they both paused, listening to the poignant lyrics:

“ _And when I walk away_

_You take off running and come right after me._

_It’s what you do,_

_And I don’t deserve you._

_I don’t deserve you.”_

She tightened her grip around his hand, and she bit her lower lip apprehensively. “What’s all this about, Doctor?” she spoke into the now quiet room. “All of this: it looks delicious, but, you have to admit, not our usual fare.”

“Now, Rose, I’m so glad you asked!” A grin returned to his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because I have been doing some research… and do you know what day it is today?”

“W’at? Other than Monday?”

“It is Thanksgiving Day in Canada, Rose! And all of this,” he swept he arm in a broad gesture to the feast on the table, “is traditional _Thanksgiving_ fare!”

“Thanksgivin’? Canadian Thanksgivin’?”

“Yup! A time of year to welcome the harvest, Rose!” He had spoken with a bright, buoyant tone, but it suddenly shifted to one that was strained and sombre: “And a time set aside to give thanks for all the things in life we take for granted.” He gave her hand a little squeeze before rapidly switching topics again: “Oh, I almost forgot the broccoli! It should be ready now. I didn’t know when you’d be home and I didn’t want it to overcook.” He bounced away from her, into the kitchen.

“Ya coulda left the broccoli out of it, ya know…” she called after him, making a face.

“Need to keep my girls healthy!” he urged eagerly as he returned to Rose with a steaming tureen of greens. He set it on the already crowded table. “C’mon, love, sit down. And I will carve this turkey, and you can help yourself to anything you wish… and also broccoli!”

He pulled out a chair for her, but she stopped him, turning to face him and placing her hands against his chest. She looked directly into his eyes, silently demanding that he tell her what was troubling him. “Doctor…” she entreated.

“Rose Tyler,” he startled her by dropping to a kneeling position before her, “you really do bring me to my knees. And I really, truly don’t deserve you. That’s the name of the song: ‘Don’t Deserve You’. Was mucking around online this morning after you left, hoping to get inspiration on how to make it up to you, and I found this song. And it’s just so us… me! And then I discovered that it was Thanksgiving in Canada! And I just thought…” He paused, clearly unsure how to continue.

Rose looked down at him, kneeling in supplication before her. “Doctor, get up. This is weird, even by our standards. C’mon,” she encouraged him, with a tug on his shirt, “jus’ let’s sit down.” She set the example, sitting down on the chair he had offered her earlier, and tugged out the chair next to it with her foot. “Sit,” she indicated.

He sat so that he was facing her, and took her hands in his own before he spoke. “I thought that you were probably upset with me about this morning. Not that I blame you!”

“Oh, very insightful, Doctor,” she snarked sarcastically, pulling away from his grip.

“Quite, yes. Weeell, it actually didn’t take a great deal of insight. Pretty obvious really. I was angry at myself, to tell the truth.”

“Doctor…”

“Right… yes…” He tugged his left ear. “Rose, this morning, all I could think of was everything I didn’t have, everything I had lost by becoming the man I am now… by being stuck here–” He winced at his choice of words. “What I mean is… limited in my ability to travel and limited in my technology.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “But the TARDIS is still so young. It’s only been two years, not even. And your sonic… well, you jus’ need a few more parts, right?” She didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or convince herself that things would get better for him. “You won’t always have to be stuck here, with me… with us…” She stroked her tummy sadly, ducking her head quickly as she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. “I know you’re not made for the slow path. Domestics, yeah?

“All of this… this Thanksgivin’ supper: it’s a lovely gesture, Doctor, but you don’t need to try to be somethin’ you’re not… Not for me. I love you, and I would never want you to feel trapped.” She looked up at him with a watery smile, surprised to see a look of complete incredulity transform his face.

In a flurry, he pushed his chair aside and dropped onto his knees again, this time between her legs where she sat facing him. She felt his arms wrap around her back as he laid his head against her swollen abdomen. His choked voice, stuttered, muffled in sobs: “My Rose… no Rose, no… I never… I… I…”

“Shhhhh… ‘s okay. I understand.” She stroked his hair reassuringly.

“No, you don’t, Rose,” he countered, controlling his sobs. “This morning, I just felt so jealous of him: travelling who-knows-where in the TARDIS; having all that medical technology at his fingertips. But then I realized that I only wanted those things because I wanted to give _you_ a better life. _I_ wanted to be the one to look after you and our baby, conducting the check-ups and such, and it frustrated me that I couldn’t do that… Because… weeell, you are the single most important part of my life, and my life would be nothing worth living if you weren’t there by my side, TARDIS or no TARDIS.”

Rose shook her head and opened her mouth to respond, but was adroitly cut off.

“No, Rose. Please… I’m on a roll, here. Please let me finish before I cock it up and jam my foot in my mouth again.”

She giggled, stroking his cheek, a lopsided smile hitching across her lips. “Go on then… I’m listenin’.”

“And then I thought about how much hurt he must be suffering, giving you up like that. And when I pushed you away this morning… weeell, I got small reminder of what that suffering must be like. The tiniest taste of it! And it was unbearable!

“My point is, Rose, _you_ make everything all worthwhile. And I am so thankful that I have you beside me to share this adventure… forever. And I am thankful to him that he gave us this opportunity, hard as it was to accept at first.” He kissed her belly and Rose felt the baby respond to his touch, reaching with her little mind to communicate her love to her father.

A sudden, loud grumble from Rose’s stomach caused the Doctor to jerk his head away from her abruptly. “Told ya I was hungry!” Rose laughed, tongue between her teeth.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, Rose Tyler!” He stood up, casting a flourishing gesture at the spread before them. “Happy Thanksgiving, love!”

A few minutes later, Rose found herself tucking into a heaping plate of turkey, stuffing, cranberries, and gravy, squash doused in maple syrup, plus a large serving of broccoli, while the Doctor sat next to her, gazing in wonder and delight at the video footage of their little Hope on Rose’s mobile, and rhyming off a seemingly endless list of new reasons to be thankful.


End file.
